


You're All Mine, Sam Winchester

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becky has her way with Sam, who can't resist.  Physically.  Because he's tied down and gagged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're All Mine, Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this idea just came up out of nowhere and i'm not even going to put that much work/editting into it bc the concept is shitty . im so so r r y

Time is running out. She needs to get more, more of that potion, the stuff that'll make Sam love her forever. But she's conflicted, she's feeling things, she's feeling remorse and awful and she feels _pathetic_ above all. So she doesn't think she'll go through with it. With the whole forcing Sam into loving her for eternity thing. But she will, however, give into her pathetic desires. She will, even just for a day. For a brief while. She's going to fuck Sam Winchester. She's made up her mind about that. 

Becky kneels into the foot of the bed and Sam's eyes instantly snap up to meet hers. She towers over him and leans down, placing a hand at his hip to balance herself.

"What are you doing?" Sam barks. There's no fondness in his voice, there's no forgiveness percolating at his eyes. His once warm expression is twisted and angry. Becky's heart flutters with despair.

"We... We're going to consummate. Our love." She's stammering and her face is flushed. She bows down nervously as Sam tenses and struggles against his restraints.

"No. We mother _fucking_ are not," he gapes as Becky swings her leg over his hip. 

She coos softly, tracing a finger over his chest. There are tears blurring her vision as Sam curses at her a few more times. "You don't have much a say," she reminds him, her eyes glancing to his arms. His muscles are taut, there's red crawling from under his restraints. He's struggling against them hard, so hard Becky thinks he might break free. But he falls against the mattress in defeat and exhales his disgust.

"Get off of me," he drones.

Becky pretends she didn't hear him. She moves her hips against his, rubbing down into his lap. 

"Stop it," he groans. And it's not a groan of pleasure, that's very certain. He's hissing through his teeth, trying not to scream. Becky wants to save herself the embarrassment of such an enthrallment, so she reaches over the bedside table and snatches up his sock. The one she'd stripped him of when he was unconscious. He refuses to open his mouth, he jerks his head. Becky can't get in in his mouth and she grunts, frustrated, and settles her weight into his lap.

"Come on," she pleads.

"Go fuck yourself."

Becky rolls her eyes and blinks away the tears. "Oh, Sam," she mutters. Like he's joking around with her. Like it's a lover's quarrel. 

She leans over him and plugs his nose. He rolls his eyes but, eventually, even he needs to give and breathe. He tries to jerk away, but to no avail, and the cave of his mouth is infiltrated by the taste of his own feet. It's demeaning and borderline psychotic, he thinks, which isn't too far out of Becky's ball park, apparently.

"See? All better." She smiles and pats his chest. He rolls his eyes and drops his head to the pillow. He tries to insult her, or berate her, but it's muffled by his gag and Becky simply sighs as she pulls her skirt up. She rolls it slowly over her thighs, moving them out of the way to reveal pink lacy panties. Her face is flushed and she keeps her nose turned down as she feels down Sam's chest, running a hand down the distinct V-line of his hips, which quirk at the touch. He grunts angrily as her fingers poke past the hem of his boxers, and as her fingernails etch small circles into his pelvis, his head shoots up and his eyes are wild. He's yelling into the sock.

Becky can hardly hear him as she pulls his boxers out of the way. Her face pales before flooding a deep red, she snaps the boxers back into place and lets her hand fly up to cover her mouth.

"Oh, my God," he wheezes.

"Ugh," Sam coughs through the sock, dropping his head again.

Becky shakes her head feverishly as she rocks her hips into his. She shudders as a faint reaction tickles her lap, but then she giggles. "You like that?"

Sam growls.

"Oh, fine. Play hard to get." But she's smiling wickedly as she humps him, both hands on his chest. She whines softly, biting into her bottom lip as she rolls her hips and grinds down against Sam's cock. And then she purrs and sits back on his thighs. Sam's eyes are shut tight and he's humming softly to himself, but it sounds scratchy and it's reverberating in his chest like a vibrator, so eventually Becky allows herself to recognize it as a growl as she slips out of her panties. She takes a hold of his penis in one hand, the other working his boxers out of the way. Her face flushes as she crawls back up to sit in his lap, rubbing his cock against her lips, threatening penetration. Sam's growls turn into muffled, panicked incoherent babble. He's breathing deeply, audibly, through his nose and his whole body is burning up.

And then Becky slides the tip of his cock against her vagina and she moans and she's already panting heavily as she takes less than a half of his length.

She has to kneel above him, her knees on either of his hips and her hands on his chest to steady herself. She trembles, her body quakes, and she hisses and moans and grunts as she adjusts to his size. She'd taken a numerous amount of other phallus-shaped, however inanimate, objects, but this was by far the most realistic and mind-shatteringly pleasant one of all. 

"Mmph-" Sam protests. There's a few guttural noises and Becky's eyes wander up to his face in time to watch as he spits out the sock. "Fuck! Stop, get off!" But she refuses and starts to bounce, only slightly, careful not to take his entire length.

So, naturally, Sam bucks his hips upwards, he slams into her and she loses her breath and collapses against him. It takes her a minute to recuperate, and when she finally does sit back up, her eyes are red-rimmed and she sniffles.

"I- I just..." She wheezes. And then she starts crying.

"Oh, my fucking God," Sam snaps. He bucks upwards again, and this time she bounces with him, her hands still at her face as she wipes nervously at her tears. But her shoulders go limp and she's moaning as Sam hammers upwards, and suddenly her pitiful sobs turn into wanton, almost exaggerated moans. So Sam stops.

"Get off of me," he jeers. "Now!"

"I'm going to have my way with you, Sam Winchester," she says, and then she's stuffing the sock back into his mouth, this time making sure to shove it into the back of his throat. Sam gags and for a minute he thinks he's going to puke, but the sock stifles it and he just whimpers and growls. He lies there, chewing angrily on the sock, as Becky has her way with him. She's done after not too long, and she slips off of him as he follows, begrudgingly, behind. Sated, she rests her head on his chest and sighs.

"I love you," she breathes into the fabric of his shirt.

"F'k 'oo."


End file.
